Shimmer
by LynnAgate
Summary: Max shows up unannounced during Alec's time of need. Disclaimer: Dark Angel is owned by James Cameron and Charles H. Eglee. For entertainment purposes only.
1. Chapter 1

Alec turned down the brown comforter on the motel bed, sat down on its sad, squeaky mattress, and untied his dress shoes. Toeing them off, he lay down and stared up at the ceiling.

_This sucks – being here for this._

He'd been avoiding this day ever since he'd been informed about it, as if it would somehow make it not come, as if it would somehow make it not true.

He fished the service announcement from his suit jacket and held it between his face and the ceiling. There was a washed out picture somewhere in the background of someone who kind of looked like him, somewhere behind all the stupid words and phrases, phrases like 'celebration of life' and 'wake to follow.'

_Is this what being transgenic means? That the people you love die just for knowing you? No, not just people you love, but also strangers and mere acquaintances?_

He was definitely feeling the pressure of it all. He felt as though he might burst if he couldn't get it out. Somehow. Anyhow. He let his arm fall to his chest and shut his eyes tight, shutting everything out.

Suddenly, his cell phone buzzed. Even in the dark, by himself and in a different state, he still wasn't alone. _Max._

He held a quick debate in his head about whether or not to answer, but it was over before it really even began; she never called him for no reason. He answered.

"Hey Max, what's up?" he choked out.

"Alec, I – are you okay?"

_Damn it! How does she know?_ "Yeah, you know me. I'm always okay."

She took a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sensing something terrible.

"I just – I guess so. I just-" she stammered.

Alec sat up. "What happened?"

It was quiet on the line.

Left to his own devices for moments that felt like eternities, Alec ran through the possibilities of what could be the emergency, and how long it might take him to get to her. "Max, what happened?" he asked in a more urgent tone.

Eventually, she asked, "Can we go for a walk or something?"

"Sure, but if you're looking for that to happen sooner rather than later, you'd probably be disappointed. I'm in Texas."

"I know," she said.

A knock came at the door.

Alec's heart raced. _She didn't come here, did she?_ The mattress springs sounded again as he stood to go answer the door, shoving the announcement in his jacket pocket. Even as he approached the door, he could smell her. He knew her scent anywhere. He felt attuned to her.

When he turned the scarred knob and pulled open the thin door, there stood Max, looking the softest she'd ever looked. Instead of the cool, hard leather and head-to-toe black, she wore blue jeans and a fuzzy dark pink sweater.

She held out a bagged bottle in some kind of offering, which he took after a few seconds. They disconnected their phones and put them away.

"Max," he muttered, almost as if in question, almost as if he didn't believe she was actually there.

She held her leather jacket in one hand, and her hair seemed wind-blown, which only confirmed to him that she had driven all the way there on her motorcycle. It also made him suspicious that she might know why he was in Texas.

Max's eyes drifted over him with a deep appreciation, from the stubbled part of his face, over the span of his suit and tie, and to the bag she'd just given him.

He seemed frozen in place with one hand on the door and the other grasped around the bottle.

Max looked back up to him, but his eyes were still glued to her, as if turning them away would reveal her presence to have been a dream. As if blinking would make her disappear. And this was something he really didn't want to be a dream.

Her sullen stare was wide with worry. "You gonna invite me in?"

It took every fiber in his being not to break down in front of her. He felt a big lump forming in his throat. He couldn't talk.

Instead, he pushed the door open and stood to the other side to let her through.

Max took a few wary steps into the room, passing him on the way in.

For a split second, he stared at the door, wondering. Why did she come? Does she know, or was there something else? Did she come to Texas to talk more about Logan and their doomed romance?

Or was she there for the only reason he wished she was?

If he closed the door, what would it mean? If things were about to get emotionally raw, he wanted it to be based on the truth, and not on pity. He wasn't sure he was ready for this.

Which is why he closed the door.

_Alone with Max._

When he turned to face her, she tossed her jacket at the chair and seemed to move in slow motion to cross the distance between them, like a cat hunting its prey, with a focused stare and careful step. She kept his stare until they seemed to be standing toe to toe.

She looked down at her hands, which were slowly rising to the lapels of his jacket, fingerwalking over his chest. As her fingers climbed the rest of the way to his neck, she rose up onto her tiptoes and pulled him toward her. She muscled his head between her neck and shoulder, swept her hand up the back of his head, and pushed him further toward her collarbone.

He wasn't sure how to respond, but it seemed slightly difficult for her to hug him properly while standing on her tiptoes. When it became evident that she wasn't letting go anytime soon, he wrapped his arms around her tightly – as tight as he could without breaking her bones – and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

The bottle's contents sloshed like cresting waves.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't want to let go. With his emotions threatening to break his normally smooth dam, he couldn't let go. This embrace was weakness enough.

Max let one hand push up into his hair. "I'm sorry," she said simply.

A thousand images of Max's face coursed through his mind, as if searching the Max-Face-Catalog for the look she was most likely giving him – but he wasn't sure he'd ever seen it.

Alec balled his fists in her hair. He knew he'd have to let go soon, but her sweet and salty scent seemed to seep into his mind, soaking him in the paradox of Max. He released his fists and Max backed out of his arms.

She had a new look in her eyes he couldn't quite read. He hoped it wasn't pity, but he still hadn't confirmed why she was even here.

"How did they make it look?" she asked, sitting on the noisy bed, despite the two perfectly acceptable and accessible chairs at the small motel table.

Alec tried to shake his thoughts away from all the weird emotions with which the situation flooded him. "Um, like an accident," he answered honestly. He cleared his throat and finally realized there was a liquor bottle in his grasp. He went to work on accessing its wetness. "A car accident."

Max listened, undoubtedly reliving her own search for the answers which plagued all transgenics.

"Like with Lydecker, except undisputable."

_Definitely dead_, thought Max, _which means a body_.

"How did you find out?" he finally asked, screwing off the lid.

"Normal said you were sick," Max offered, leaning forward.

Alec nodded in confirmation, took a swig of the ale, and turned the chair opposite her to sit facing her, mirroring her image. "And how did that lead you here?"

He immediately regretted asking that question, believing at his core that Max's super-informative not-like-that boyfriend was the most likely candidate for tracking his cell or movements or whatever. He wouldn't put it past the man to somehow have eyes on them now.

"I read the paper," she said. "I saw that message meant for you. It didn't quite add up, so I checked out a few things."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. _No Logan?_

"I went to talk to the writer and no one could find him – they didn't even know who he was. So I just followed the coordinates."

Something nearing a smile crept up on his lips. "You drove out here based on coordinates?"

Max almost scoffed. "I thought it might have been a trap."

Alec took another big gulp. "So you came out her to save me?" _Man, she can be patronizing. _

She breathed a loud exhale.

_Patience._

"No."

_Simply put, yet again. _He raised the bottle. He wondered if all women were like this, or just the genetically-engineered ones. Like the soldier he was designed to be, Alec pushed the snide remarks and guilt down, and tried to compartmentalize it all.

"You gonna share or should I go grab another bottle?"

Taken aback, he handed her the bottle, neck first.

Max tipped the bottle and chugged three big mouthfuls while Alec watched bemusedly. "Maybe we will need another bottle," he said.

Max passed it back. "I came out here because I was worried about you."

_Was this honesty? Is that all she's going to say?_

"I can take care of myself," he said straightforwardly, as if this excuse wasn't enough and he was trying to draw out some other truth.

"I know."

"Then why were you worried?" Alec took another swig.

After a few seconds, she gave up. "I don't know. Because I didn't want anyone blowing your head off. Because I thought you might need back up. Because I thought you might need a friend." Max nabbed the bottle from him and drank some. "Someone to drink with."

Alec felt the room tense and loosened his tie. Maybe she needed someone to drink with, too.

"Tell me about her," she said.

_What could I tell her, though? I don't know anything._ He pulled the announcement from his pocket and passed it to her. "This is all I have." _Her life reduced to a piece of paper._

Max studied the announcement as Alec pulled his tie off and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

"Barbara Jo Miller?" Max asked, trying to keep respectful.

"It's not real," Alec said. "I can't imagine Manticore letting her exist this long under her real name."

"Hmm," Max agreed. "She's pretty." She took another drink and passed the bottle back to Alec. "I see the resemblance."

Alec's brows rose momentarily. "Ah, so what you're saying is, you came here because you didn't want anyone blowing my pretty little head off," he teased.

Max tried to quip back. "Pretty big head."

"Well, no one's ever called it 'pretty'," he said, lifting the bottle and taking a drink. Max smiled.

_And this is distraction, _he thought_. _He wondered if he could actually get distracted enough to let the tides of his mind erase a couple of footprints, just for a little while.

"So what about yours? What was her name?"

Max grew very quiet. "No idea." She avoided his eyes. "I keep thinking one day I'll get the coordinates, too, but so far, nothing. Do you know who sent them?"

Alec shook his head and offered the bottle back to Max. She took a long drink. "Maybe we should find out," he suggested.

"Maybe it's still a trap," she said.

Alec dismissed the idea. "Nah, they would've shown themselves already."

Max jumped up and hastily stepped to the door. She peered through the peephole. "Uh oh."

Alec approached the door. "What?"

She moved out of the way and he put his eye to the lens to see what she saw.

Which was nothing.

He turned around and grabbed hold of the bottle, but Max wouldn't let go. He tried to muscle it out of her hand, but she didn't let go, which ultimately resulted in Alec pulling her closer.

Max let go but didn't step away from him.

"A trap for whom?" he asked, seeing Max's pupils dilate.

A split second later, her pupils readjusted as a shadow outside the window caught her attention. "Down!" she shouted, grabbing him by the arm and taking him to the floor. He hit the floor shoulder-first, smashing her hand between his arm and the fifteen-year-old, no longer half-inch carpet and pad, as a spray of bullets riddled the motel window and walls, cutting through spaces which their bodies had occupied moments ago.


End file.
